A Church for Starving Artists

Pastors:  Are we “hobbling” our people?

This article by Emma Brown of the Chicago Tribune addresses the familiar notion of over-helping our children.

Stanford University former Dean Julie Lythcott-Haims who wrote How to Raise an Adult: Break Free of the Overparenting Trap and Prepare Your Kid for Success offers some no brainer advice to parents:

I visit many church leaders who have forgotten – or perhaps never knew – how to be the church.  (That sounds really harsh, but stay with me.)

We talk about missional leadership and outreach into the neighborhood and pastoral care, but many of us are not equipped to do these things.  Imagine if – especially in these days – we trained all our of people to be First Responders:

• There’s a snow storm and we need to know how to check in with our neighbors to see if they are okay.  We need to check if they are warm and stocked with food.  If necessary, practice the “Hi, I just wanted to check to see if you’re okay” dialog.
• The new couple across the street just adopted a baby and we want to be good neighbors.  Ask if we could bring over dinner.  Find out if there are food allergies.  Deliver dinner in disposables.  Drop off the food and go.  (Don’t plan to stay for a long visit and – for heaven’s sake – don’t comment on how tired somebody looks or how it doesn’t look like they’ve had time to tidy up.)
• The single man down the street is recovering from hip surgery and his kids live in another state, and we want to offer support.  Get the kids’ numbers in case you need to contact them.  Ask if you can drive the man to his doctor or physical therapy appointments.  Invite him over for dinner or take dinner to him.

I believe that if we all knew how to love our neighbors, our congregations would thrive in spirit if not in numbers.  We can no longer assume that everybody knows how to do these things, but this is something the church could do:  offer First Responder training for the neighborhood and beyond.  It might seem rudimentary.  But in our hectic, busy world – perhaps we’ve forgotten how to respond to someone in need.  Or perhaps we never learned how to do it.

God forbid, maybe we’ll one day need to know how to tend to a victim of terrorism.  Or maybe we’ll simply need to know how to help a lonely neighbor. Church:  this is a good place to being figuring out how to care for others.

We all know that words matter.  “Progressive” versus “Liberal.”  “Pro-life” versus Pro-Choice.”  “Violent Extremists” versus “Radical Islam.”

The terrorists responsible for the recent attacks in Paris and Beirut have been called ISIL (Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant) or ISIS (Islamic State of Iraq and Syria.)  We love our acronyms.

But John Kerry and others have been pushing a different acronym:  DAESH or DAIISH  (pronounced something like di -ESH or dehySH)   It’s the acronym for the Arabic name of the group: ‘لدولة الإسلامية في العراق والشام’ (‘al-dowla al-islaamiyya fii-il-i’raaq wa-ash-shaam’). We can hear on this podcast why calling them DAIISH is a slam.

In a nutshell:

• To use their their own Arabic name and acronym it demeans the name.  It’s a name that should be demeaned.
• DAIISH sounds very much like the word daes (“one who crushes something underfoot“) and dahes (“one who sows discord“) – especially when Western people say it.

Word play is our friend.

Calling something what it truly is is not only a linguistic exercise.  It’s a theological and political exercise.  Remember these words:

We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed;  perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed;  (2 Corinthians 4:8-9)

There is violence in the Scriptures of Jews, Christians, and Muslims, but that’s not who we are.  Don’t be a deceiver or a d#@k, or a daes or a dahes or a DAESH.  This is not what we were created to be.

Walmart continues to be the largest company in the world. Love them or hate them, they are not merely amazing innovators; they innovate before they have to.

Sam Walton started Walmart in 1962 but through the years, he was a master of innovation.  In the 1990s, Walmart went into rural areas while Kmart, for example, stayed in the suburbs.

It took Kmart 15 years to plant stores in rural areas.

As I was walking in the Chicago Loop last week, I noticed that Walmart has adapted once again.  Among the sweeping skyscrapers, a Walmart Neighborhood Market stood out on a busy corner.  Also within the city are a Walmart Express and even a Walmart Superstore.  Urban Walmart stores have been around for several years now.  By 2020, Walmart projects that there will be so many stores in the District of Columbia that 64% of the population will live within 2 miles of a Walmart.

So what can we learn as spiritual communities?  Most of our congregations have not brought innovation to our church kitchens much less to our worship practices, our mission priorities or our organizational structures. Why is that?

• We tend to confuse “traditions” with “customs.”  We don’t want to mess with “tradition” which (we think) means that we don’t want to change the way we do the Christmas pageant.  Actually Advent is a church tradition.  The Christmas pageant is a church custom.  We can change customs to our hearts content.  (Advent, on the other hand, will always be the four Sundays before Christmas and the days in between.)
• We fear making mistakes.  If our congregation shames people who make mistakes we will never try anything new.  Failure is immeasurably educational, though, and we need to do it more often.
• We institutionalize customs.  We have a great chili dinner one year and somebody says, “We should do this every year.”  Before you know it, we’ve had a chili dinner for 17 years and nobody likes it much anymore but “we have to do it.  It’s what we do on the last weekend in October.“
• We innovate as as last ditch effort.  (And then it’s too late.) We could have easily restructured our educational program or our leadership model years ago when we had the capacity to make effective change.  But – for whatever reason – we didn’t do it.  Maybe we were complacent or we didn’t want to offend somebody in power or we didn’t see change coming.  But we missed our window and now our educational program or our leadership pool are so depleted that we can’t recover.

Last weekend, I visited a congregation of lively members who were clearly happy to be together, happy to work together, happy to serve.  One member joyfully said, “We never know what’s going to happen around here!”

Exactly.  Innovation is part of their culture.

And innovation is not important for innovation’s sake.  It’s important because the world is changing, our contexts are changing, our populations are changing. Waiting to change the way we are the church doesn’t serve the God who has called us.

Need help innovating?  Here are some ideas to check out.

I believe that the Wedding at Cana story is more of a shame story than a miracle story.  (Thank you MP.)  In a nutshell:  Jesus takes what is shameful and creates something beautiful.  Few things in 1st Century Palestine were more shameful than offering poor hospitality to guests (i.e. running out of wine at the wedding.)

Shame trumps guilt every time as the curse that keeps on cursing.

I can’t let go of this story from Chicago last week about the young woman who hid her pregnancy from her parents and was so ashamed/afraid to face them, that she dropped her newborn from her eighth story window.  Imagine the level of terror this 19 year old was experiencing.  She was willing to sacrifice her child in order to spare herself the insults or attacks or shunning of her parents.  Please pray for her as she has been arrested.

When shame is not addressed, it continues.

In a ridiculously incomparable segue, I also believe that many of our congregations live in shame storms.  Congregations remember the days when their choirs went on tour and their pews were filled and their youth programs were brimming with energy.  Some of those same congregations now patch together a much smaller group of singers and rope off the back pews.  There are many, many churches with no children much less any youth.  We lifelong church people might not say so, but to a certain extent, we are ashamed.

It’s not as crushing as the shame of an unwed teenager with conservative parents, but it causes similar fears.  We fear making choices because a “bad choice” could be the end of us. We fear taking risks because we don’t believe we can afford risks.  We cannot joyfully worship because there’s a cloud hanging over us.

Maybe we’ll just cover up the problem and it will go away.

But I’m here to tell that you that Jesus takes what is shameful and redeems it. It’s not just a Bible story.

If you are facing something shameful right now – whatever it might be – please know that there is someone out there who will walk with you.  If you are a congregation on the cusp of closing, know that this is not the worst thing. Water can still turn into wine, in a proverbial sense.  Sometimes dying churches can be transformed, but Jesus is the only one who can do it.  And sometimes Jesus’ people are so loving – no matter what we’ve done or who we are – that our lives can be transformed too.  Shame is never the last word.

Painting of The Wedding at Cana by Daniel Mitsui.

If you were looking for a new pastor, what “red flags” would you look for in hopes of avoiding a poor choice?

• Doesn’t play well with others?
• Binge drinks a couple times a year?
• Has PTSD from an accident?
• Married his ex-sister in law?

Part of my job involves doing “exec checks” on pastors interviewing to serve around here.  I contact my counterpart where those pastors are currently serving and ask about red flags.

As the pastoral candidate gets closer to being called to a church, there will be other checks: DMV, financial, criminal, theological, “fitness.”  But in the initial check I’m looking for immediate deal breakers.

Here’s what I usually ask:

• Are there any red flags?  (Seems like a good, basic opening.)
• Is this a happy person?  (I don’t care if a person has bad days or even depression.  But how is this person’s general disposition?)
• What does he/she do to serve beyond his/her local congregation? (Tells me if the pastor collaborates with others in the wider Church or in the community.)
• Is this person teachable?  (Knows-it-all-already pastors tend to be poor leaders for a 21st Century Church.)
• Is there anything else we need to know about this pastor?  (This would be a good time to tell me she’s got an unaddressed addiction or he burned down the manse.)

[Important note:  Someone is my position can’t truly be a “pastor to pastors”  if I also do “exec checks.” What if I have information shared during a pastoral moment, and I’m asked a question about that issue during an exec check? Boundary problem.]

My question, actually, is:  What Would You Consider a Red Flag for a Pastor? Does it depend on the context?  The pastor’s age?  The pastor’s marital status?  I’d love to hear your thoughts on this.

What should I be asking during Exec Checks?  I’d love to hear your thoughts. What would you want to know about your future pastor?

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Thank you.

In our interview to serve a church in Our Nation’s Capital many years ago, HH and I – candidating as co-pastors – were asked if we would ever “march on the mall.”  One of us followed that question with another question:

Are you asking us if there is anything we would ever protest for or against?

“Of course,” we answered.  “We hope we would stand up for what we believed was right.”  Suspicions were already high because I’d kept my own birth name. But as it turned out, the biggest “protest” we attended was an Earth Day Rally featuring James Taylor, Leonardo diCaprio, David Crosby, and Carole King and – honestly – we were there for the music, no matter how much we love the planet.

I’m far from being a brave marcher, unlike my colleagues getting arrested over protesting government budget cuts.

The situation at The University of Missouri is attracting both the ire and the respect of many people.  Two powerful university leaders – in fact the two highest ranking university leaders – have resigned after the football team and many others protested certain administrative actions and the lack of action.

Among the assorted actions protested: Failing to address issues of flagrant racism.

Just 116.5 miles from Ferguson, many people of Columbia, MO had had enough of  racial epithets shouted at Student Body President Payton Head, swastikas painted on a dorm wall, more racial epithets at a homecoming event.  But it was only when the football team refused to play – losing potentially a million dollars for the University – that leaders agreed to step down.

I’ve heard some say that “protests don’t achieve anything.”  Instead, we should be painting houses and feeding the hungry.  But think about it:  is there anything important enough that we would simply stand up in public and say:  “No more.”

This is risky, of course.  We risk offending somebody – maybe somebody in our family or somebody in our church.

But we are called to defend the weak and serve the disenfranchised.  Would we stand up for them for the sake of Christ?

Image from a Mizzou protest. The hashtag #ConcernedStudent1950 honors the year the University accepted its first African American student.

The middle is messy but it’s also where the magic happens.

Integrity is choosing courage over comfort; choosing what is right over what is fun, fast, or easy; and choosing to practice our values rather than simply professing them.

The truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable.  

Actually, the last quote comes from Jesus and the 20th President of the United States. The first two are from Brene Brown’s new book Rising Strong.

I find myself in The Messy Middle.

God calls each of us, I believe, but I do not believe that God necessarily has a specific call in mind every time we need to make a decision.  Am I called to serve First Church on the Hill or Christ Church in the Valley?  It could be that one of those choices is The One.  Or it could be that God could use me well in either setting.  The point is that I remain attuned to God in all things.

Are you called to fulfill your passion for painting?  Or are you called to develop a passion from the situation at hand – whatever that situation might be?  And then you’ll get to paint.

This article from The Washington Post speaks to the quandary of pursing one’s passion – that rather (misleading) American thing we tell our kids.  The German word for “passion” is leidenschaft which literally refers to resilience.  In Polish, the word is cierpienie which refers to suffering.  Called to suffer doesn’t sound nearly as much fun as called to follow our bliss, does it?

I’ve been called to serve two congregations of churches and one “mid-council” of a denomination.  I’ve been lucky.  It’s been clear.

So what if one’s calling is not so clear?  Questions to ask ourselves:

• Can we talk ourselves into “feeling called”? (yes)
• Is a call supposed to feel “right” or is it supposed to feel a little scary? (yes and yes)
• How do we discern God’s will for us?  (your guess is as good as mine)

There is prayer.  There is the gut check.  There is the pros and cons list.  Long walks help.  Wise council  helps.  Reading Rising Strong helps except when it doesn’t.

In the final analysis, if there is such a thing as following a specific call, I wonder if “it doesn’t matter” is the answer.  God uses whatever choice we make.

It’s just that some choices are so much more efficient than others.  Making a choice that leads to 40 years of wandering in the wilderness sounds exhausting. And yet what if that messy middle – the wandering- is exactly the point?

On this glorious fall day, I’d love to hear about your call.  Does God feel near or far away?  Does your current purpose in life feel courageous or comfortable? Are we practicing what we value?  Or are we spending our days doing what’s fun, fast, and easy?   Discerning minds want to know.

Remember when David Letterman played the audience participation game called
Know Your Cuts of Meat?   I was impressed when somebody could actually distinguish a Blade Roast from a Tip Roast.

But this post is not about meat.

Important note:  People are not cuts of meat.  Nevertheless, we sometimes treat new people as if they were.  I remember a friend telling me that the first time she visited a certain church and took a seat with her husband and two children, it was as if somebody yelled “Fresh meat!”  One woman asked her after worship if she’d like to teach Sunday School.  Someone asked her husband if he’d like to join the choir.  No thank you.

Our community, however, is comprised of many pieces and knowing as many of those pieces as possible is essential for a thriving ministry.

We could call it Know Your Constituents.  Any congregation serious about ministry inside and outside its walls should be able to identify the segments of people around them:

• The Neighborhood – Do we know how many students receive free lunch at the school closest to our church building?  Do we know the unemployment rate for our county?  Are we aware that there is a high rate of domestic violence or heroin addiction in our town?  Do we know the names of the people who deliver our mail, patrol our parking lot, or supply our paper?
• The Staff – Do we know that our office administrator has a law degree?  Do we know that our organist speaks French?  Do we know that our associate pastor grew up in Alaska?  Have we read our colleagues’ resumes so that we can appreciate their experience and background?
• The Leadership – Have we met our elders for lunch near their workplaces?  Do we know that the Clerk of Session keynoted a national convention last summer?  Have we gotten to know our Deacons well enough to know that one is the retired head of the school board and another lived as a homeless person for two years?

The days are long gone (like 100 years ago) when the pastor was the smartest person in the room.  If we do not know our constituents, we risk underestimating them or making assumptions about who they are and what they know or don’t know.  I remember a new pastor who became so frustrated with his officers that – in the heat of a personnel conflict – he said, “If you don’t cooperate on this, I might consider hiring a lawyer.”  What he didn’t know was that almost everybody around the table was a lawyer.

We need to know our constituents.  Yes, this seems hugely obvious.  But many of us do not take the time or make the effort to know our people – both in the congregation and out in the neighborhood.  And when we don’t, it almost feels like we are treating them as less than fully human.  We see them so superficially that we don’t honor who they are.

Our people – friends and strangers – are assets that can teach us all kinds of things.  Pastors who get this are like gold.